


Losing Grey

by AuroraExecution



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraExecution/pseuds/AuroraExecution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth’s life has always been defined in darkness, and the light he follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Grey

**Author's Note:**

> So I just got an invitation today from the amazing Speranza, and wanted to try posting something. I've had this fic lying around for ages, so it seemed like a good guinea pig. 
> 
> Can be taken as Cloud/Sephiroth if you want, but is really just about the duality and parallels between them.

When everything faded to black, he remembered light. 

It was, he reflected for an instant, the theme of his life, seemingly. Always the juxtapose between two extremities, like the never-ending battle with himself or the space between him and the man who was his eternal equal and opposite. Always the interface of his true self and his role as the spawn of Jenova. Always, in perfect black and white, until he could no longer remember what the grey world looked like anymore. 

Time and electric green wore it all away, stripped him of his sanity and his sense of self and any chance he ever had to be loved by anyone. He was no longer human, really, but the child of battle and mako and an alien corpse, born to die from killing. Everything, every memory, especially the happy ones, faded from his grasp, along with the people he loved and the things he treasured. 

All that was left, beside the components of the fighting machine and a strange sense of loyalty and anger, was a lone bright light. Even through the green haze of Mother’s continuous massacre, there was always a single golden beacon, a shock of soft blond hair and eyes so very clear and beautiful and blue, so unlike his own. The color remained part of him ever afterwards, that untainted blue completely devoid of mako-green misery. 

He remembered the light and followed, and no matter what, the light was there. Sometimes he could almost recall things about it, glimmers of memories involving old friends, people who were long dead and gone, or, occasionally, battles on fields of flame. And bodies, skewered onto Masamune, his one silent companion. The more the days passed, the less he remembered. 

But the light was his one constant, and when his world was black in its entirety, the single point of light gave him variation to see by. It had been far too long since he even had that, never mind the shades of grey that made up all the rest of the world. So he held tightly to the memory of the light, and searched for it relentlessly, until it became almost as much of an obsession as the dark things, like Mother and revenge and hate. 

In the end, ironically, it was the light that brought him into the dark spaces of death. Funny, how relieved he felt as he released his grip on life. The rest of him, the parts that belonged to Mother, seemed to be screaming, but in that instant, the small, secret part of him that jealously protected his last memories of his light, the one part that belonged to only himself, simply thought it was suddenly very weightless and content. Almost as if…he were weary and merely wanted rest. At the end, only his light remained. 

When everything faded to black, he remembered pale tufts of hair, and blue eyes, and light.


End file.
